The story starts off with a little background on Saudi Arabia. They import workers like Americans import bananas: they get them in bulk from hot, foreign countries where labor is cheap. It is common for households to have a live-in maid or nanny, and many of these women are from Southeast Asia. These cute ladies are usually pretty short with round faces, small brown eyes, dark hair and tan skin. I saw a lot of these women huddled against the wall yesterday morning when I got off my flight after my fabulous trip to America.
Another tidbit about Saudi Arabia: about 90% of the visible population is male. Another 6% of the visible population is female, but you would never know from looking at their formless, black attire and covered faces, but that's what women wear out here. The remaining 4% or so stands out like me and gets a LOT of attention in the form of men staring as if they have never seen a woman. It's annoying, but I'm used to it.
Okay, now on with the story. I finished my long flight and made it through passport control, where they stamped my visa and added yet another stamp to the collection I have going on my passport. After walking past the swarm of imported domestic helpers, I stood next to the conveyer belt waiting for my checked luggage. A security guard approached me and demanded to see my passport. I asked why, since I already went through passport control. He didn't understand me, so I told him I would show him my passport, but he could not hold it. I busted it out and he took a look at the big American flag picture behind my pic. He then asked to see my visa. No problem there! It was a single use one, so he could keep it for all I cared. I handed it to him, he looked at whatever Arabic writing King Faisal Hospital felt like it needed to put on there, then passed it back. He paused, then said that he needed someone who spoke English to help.
A man flying in from Los Angeles overheard the conversation and offered to translate. The guard asked him where I worked. The translator asked me. I told him. He told the guard. The guard asked what I did. The translator asked me. I told him. He told the guard. The guard said something that I didn't understand, then walked away. The translator said something about the man being so stupid. I asked what was going on, and he said that he didn't know either, but there was no reason for him to want to see my passport and visa once I was out of the passport control area.
The translator guy and I engaged in small talk for a little while, then watched as the guard led a procession of future maids from their spot against the wall to the x-ray machine for their luggage to get one last inspection. The translator burst out laughing. I asked him what was so funny, and he said that the guard must have thought I was a maid like the other women! He said that no family would hire an American maid because they would be too expensive. Between my white skin, blue eyes, red hair, 5'8" stature and American passport, the guard still needed a translator to figure out that I am not a Southeast Asian maid-to-be. Idiot.
There are a lot of things I would be good at in this life. Being a maid isn't one of them.
